Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Dream Jobs...

I guess it’s only fitting that at this time of year, it’s natural to start thinking about the future. I’m not talking about New Year’s resolutions. Not: “In 2007, I will give up (insert vice here), lose weight, get fit and help feed the poor in my third world country of choice.”

No, I’ve been thinking about dream jobs – that is, career paths that I could take if looks, skill-set and ability weren’t an obstacle. Here’s a few ideas…

Professional Shopper:
PROS: I love to shop, on the proviso that it’s for someone else, not myself. And what could be better than spending copious amounts of someone else’s money? I reckon I’m pretty good at thinking of gift ideas for others as well; I haven’t ever given a gift with a “Gee thanks – what an interesting (read God awful) present!” response.

CONS: I’m simply not glamorous enough. I can’t do the whole air-kissing thing (mwah darling!) with the right amount of insincerity and come to think of it, the superficiality that the retail world represents would get on my goat pretty quickly.

Bookshop Owner:
PROS: There is something horribly and romantically Meg Ryan about owning your own bookshop. I love reading and owning a shop means I could surround myself with books. I’m it would be a prerequisite to hire a couple of overpaid but endearingly quirky shop assistants, and we would fill our days with conversation, drinking coffee, stacking books and changing window displays. Sounds boring to some, sounds great to me.

CONS: Borders.

Spy/Con Artist: (one and the same really – just working for different sides)
PROS: It’s all about the confidence – and the knowledge that you can kung-fu, hot-wire or sweet-talk your way out of any sticky situation. I’m leaning more on the side of con artist; more fun and definitely less possibility of being blown up.

CONS: I’m not confident enough, not glamorous enough, I get asthma attacks when I run for extended periods of time and I simply could not deal with having to be impeccably dressed all the time. Don’t spies ever just bum around in their tracky-dacks?

Hmmm…I think I’ll stick to my day job.

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